


Bits and Bites

by bad taco (iamanawesometaco), iamanawesometaco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, One Piece, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-05-18 05:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanawesometaco/pseuds/bad%20taco, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanawesometaco/pseuds/iamanawesometaco
Summary: Pieces of fics not complete enough to stand on their own, scenes without beginnings or middles or ends, and first chapters that would get lonely if they were put up on their own.





	1. HP/OP-  Harry Potter eats the Devil Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these **will not be continued** and are just... stuck here, instead of left floating. Expect spoilers for multiple fandoms and my other fanfictions. 
> 
>  
> 
> Chapters posted by **iamanawesometaco** are generally safe (for a given value of safe; this is AO3). Warnings will be in the beginning notes.  
>  Chapters posted by **bad taco (iamanawesometaco)** are generally  not safe either because they're NSFW, contain an excess of problematic themes, or are loaded with triggers. Some fandoms (like Black Butler) are inherently loaded with heavy themes and may be posted by _bad taco_ regardless of content. Warnings will be in the beginning notes.
> 
> Please, be safe, read warnings and alert me if I miss any, and enjoy responsibly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Piece/Harry Potter
> 
> unedited, incomplete, NOT up for adoption, story notes in the chapter text

Harry Potter, Universe's Butt Monkey extraordinaire, eats the Devil Fruit. It tastes worse than the descriptions; words in the human language don't manage to properly convey how repulsive a flavor it is. His tastebuds will never be the same. He's not quite sure what he expected to happen, but he did _not_ expect to suddenly collapse into a puddle on the floor.

A _literal_ puddle. A puddle of water. Now, Harry's pretty new to the whole Devil Fruit thing, just like the rest of the world, but... water? _Really?_ This is a thing that happens apparently.

Harry's Devil Fruit turned him into _water_. He's not sure how to feel about that, apart from confused, resigned, baffled, puzzled, grimly satisfied, mystified...

...actually this is pretty much par for the course for him. He doesn't know why he expected anything _else_. He doesn't even know what else this Fruit does; it was a wild one, freshly plucked on an uninhabited island Harry had just so happened to land on. He's really regretting not bringing it back for the scientists to study.

Oh well. Nothing to be done at this point.

Now, to pull himself back into human form... Harry focuses hard, thinking about his body, thinking about flowing upwards, coming together, reforming and regaining color...

The surface of the Harry-puddle ripples ever so slightly.

...This is going to take a while.

* * *

The ocean, Harry had discovered over the course of his long, long life, was big. It was also indomitable and mercurial—sort of like the Earth itself.

The continents of the world he had been born to were long gone, cannibalized to make way for new ones, and new ones, and new ones, again and again and again for nigh on ten thousand years. The land changes too much, and while the sea changes too, Harry finds he vastly prefers it to land. A mere six months after he eats the Oki Oki no Mi (well, that's what he's named it at least) he retreats to the ocean, allowing his form to disperse across the seas of the world. It's less dispersing and more becoming the ocean itself, which is hella weird at first, but then he finds himself lulled into a deep slumber by the movement of the moon, breathing to the rhythm of the tides.

It's... nice. Harry's aware it can't last forever, but he will damn well enjoy this peace while he can. He will do so by napping. Harry likes napping, he never really got the chance in the millennia he spent ashore, always being called in to do this, help with that, go here and there, could you just do one more thing, a little help while you're at it, do me a favor, lend a hand would you, blah blah blah. The ocean demands nothing from him. He is the ocean.

It's nice, to be free.

Oh, sure, the moon tugs at him, and the earth spins beneath him, and the wind drags against his surface, but he's not obligated to do anything. And he has no one asking him for favors.

Who expects the ocean to be anything but indifferent?

* * *

The Fire crashes against his surface, again. One of the little flesh beings pulls the Fire out, but really. That's... that's more than eighty times, now. Within less than eighty days.

This is getting ridiculous, Harry grumbles to himself, shaking off the claws of deep slumber with no small amount of reluctance. He knows he's been sleeping for millennia, thanks to his uncanny sense of time passing, but the repeated close encounters with whoever has eaten the Mera Mera no Mi most recently are really getting on his nerves. Fire and water don't exactly mix well. It feels sort of like repeatedly passing your finger over a candle flame—more irritating with more exposure, and eventually, it will become painful. So you stop, before it starts hurting.

Soon Fire splashes into him again. Gets pulled out.

Harry starts to prepare to gather himself. He doesn't want to form a body out of all the ocean, that would be bad. He needs just enough to be, say, three meters tall, and proportionate besides. Then he can punt that annoying Devil Fruit User straight back onto their damn boat, and make sure they stay there.

 

[ INCOMPLETE PART ]

* * *

**NOTES**

// or in which immortal harry potter eats the open seas devil fruit, in a fit of pique walks dramatically out into the ocean and merges with it, sleeps for a good few thousand years, and then when he wakes up people realize that the reason devil fruit users drown in the ocean is because of him. the conflict between their powers and harry's drains them of energy upon contact, and evaporation etc the water cycle means all water comes from and returns to the sea, hence the general weakness to water. so basically it's all harry's fault. ha. haha. h.a

-harry is immortal  
-he witnesses the evolution of devil fruits and the disappearance of magic from the world  
-he technically works for the government but he kind of hates it. he mostly sticks around for hermione&ron's descendants who run the division studying devil fruits.   
-he does eventually get his form together and go back to the government, who's pissed. he runs away and becomes a hermit after like. a month? hes so sick of government idiots.  
-when he's distressed/really happy, his form falls apart and he dissolves into a puddle uwu  
-centuries pass between harry eating the devil fruit and the last part, where he wakes up because ace is fighting whitebeard and keeps getting thrown into the ocean. (my memory is fuzzy, i dont know and dont care if ace canonically got thrown into the ocean this many times. Author's Privilege, aka FUCK CANON. here he did.)

-fun fact: harry has entire mythologies written about him. he's considered a deity in some places...


	3. HP - the one who changed (or the one to blame)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TMR is Harriet Potter fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have more of this, but this is the only bit that feels ready-ish for posting  
> Chapter warnings: Voldemort POV, ableist language, mentions of gender dysphoria, mentions of child abuse.

_He had thought he would be taller._

Admittedly his first thought was less than impressive, but disorientation was a given considering his circumstances. Those circumstances being inhabiting the body of a young Harriet Potter, an estimated four years old. No, six, the body was underfed and small.

Now, the soul fragment of Lord Voldemort was aware of his status, if uncertain as to what he was. A living horcrux? Permanent possession? Body-snatching? At any rate, the soul of Harriet was subsumed, and he was left in her malnourished, half-crippled body.

But no. Half-crippled was an exaggeration. Malnourished was accurate, as was maltreated.

He resigned himself to carefully picking over his thoughts for anything not rational or heathy. No need to fall into that typical dark lord insanity trap. Before he realized, he'd be monologuing and dramatically revealing unnecessarily complex evil plans to enemies. Tom Riddle was aware of the literature and history, and he was aware that it was against him. He was also aware that he had to be meticulous about his mental health. _Her_ mental health? No, no gender dysphoria now, he decided. He would _not_ poke that bees' nest until he had his head screwed on properly. Labels were good, labels helped put his thoughts into words.

He switched trains of thought, returning to the matter of having consumed Harriet Potter's soul. Her memories buzzed faintly in the back of his head, unsurprisingly filled with pain and anger. _How quaint_. Whatever the catalyst of his taking control, he had conveniently acquired a method of perfectly imitating the girl, if he so wished.

Which he did not.

Harriet Potter had been an oppressed, downtrodden thing, with more fury and hatred in her than most little girls, and less opportunities to act upon it without being beaten bloody than most little girls. Cute, he supposed, but very nearly _useless_. The soul fragment of Lord Voldemort had no intention of continuing to live the life of a miserable wretch, even if she had a remarkable capacity for anger. That, of course, meant doing two things: piecing together how on _earth_ Harriet Potter was placed with _abusive muggle relatives_ , and figuring out a way to get out from under their thumbs without arousing outside suspicion.

It would be fairly difficult, he was sure. Wonderful. It had been a while since anything other than the blackest of magics was actually _challenging_.

 


	4. KHR - Death!Yamamoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamamoto Takeshi is the harbinger, the entity given form, the physical manifestation of Death.  
> (KHR)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA even Death isn't immune to Tsuna
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Yamamoto's canonical suicide attempt, inhuman POV.

 Yamamoto Takeshi is the harbinger, the entity given form, the physical manifestation of Death.

That doesn't mean he doesn't feel love, or get lonely, or have desires. It just means he's Death, and also in a way Life _(life has no master)_ and can do what he wants. Every once in a while, he wants to become part of a mortal family, so he does.

Death's turn as Yamamoto Takeshi goes beautifully until his mother dies. Then everything sort of crashes and burns around him. Takeshi does his best to stay strong, because when Death crashes and burns he brings the rest of the world with him. Rebooting the multiverse is too much of a hassle to risk over some pesky mortals.

Temping though. So, _so_ tempting.

Death is good at masks. He'd never be able to pass as mortal if he wasn't. Takeshi smiles, and laughs, and pretends, and these fools, these cruel beasts in guises of children, lay burden after pressure after expectation on his shoulders and expect him not to crack. They're lucky Takeshi hasn't shredded their souls, saved by the virtue of being beneath him.

Takeshi's body _(fragile mortal shell)_ breaks an arm when he pushes it too hard in an attempt to scale the pedestal _(altar, pedestal, sacrificial scapegoat **crucifix** )_ the children have laid him on, which is irritating beyond belief. He's so fed up with this existence, he's really ready to just going back to being Death.

Sawada Tsunayoshi stops him.

So maybe Takeshi has difficulty understanding humans' fear of death, seeing as he _is_ Death. He hadn't really thought much beyond _that's it, I'm done, what's the quickest way to get out of this shell?_ in the middle of being patronized and whined at by pathetic infants. Perhaps leaving to jump off the school roof in the middle of a conversation was a bit dramatic. He's sure Takeshi's father will miss him, but the man will live, probably, or at least meet his changeling son in the afterlife. Takeshi is wondering idly about his mother while judging the distance to the ground and how hard he'll have to try to make sure he stays dead when the tiny _(tiny tiny but **roaring** )_ boy shoves his way to the front of the mob Takeshi hadn't even noticed had formed. Mortals are so strange.

Sawada tries, Takeshi will give him that. To be an asshole in his last moments as Takeshi, he snipes back with nasty words of thoughts and feelings he supposes they think he has. It's all a game to him, but Tsunayoshi _(someone who burns so bright deserves that honor)_ makes a good point, so he goes to climb back over. It's really no great hardship that the fence breaks, he could easily catch himself on a window ledge, but then Tsunayoshi lunges after him and cold panic fills his lungs, because this fledgling inferno should in no way perish _(more permanently, far more permanently)_ with him.

It takes quick, half-instinctive movements, but Takeshi gets Tsuna cradled safely in the loop of his sling and clings to a window ledge on the third floor by the fingertips of his good arm. Almost dislocates his shoulder too but kicking off the wall at the right instant counteracts the jerking of catching both their weights and they're left hanging by four fingertips. The sill is so dirty Takeshi nearly lets go out of revulsion, but Tsuna's nervous squeaking reminds him why that would be a bad idea. It takes careful application of physics and plenty of muscle power but he hauls them both up through the window they were dangling under before any authority figures can be called, and before Hibari catches them.

_(For those wondering, it involved: "Hold onto me, Tsunayoshi."; he propelled them straight up and caught hold of the open window's edge; their legs kicked wildly out the window before they slid off the desk and crashed to the floor; "Oww..."; Takeshi had to focus on not doing anything he might actually for once in his life regret; and "Okay, I deserved that.")_

Turning his head towards Tsunayoshi, who is laying next to him on the floor and wheezing, Takeshi smiles. Mortals may be strange, but he _likes_ this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INTERNAL SCREAMING  
> I INADVERTENTLY MADE THE KOKUYO ARC SO MUCH MORE COMPLICATED


	5. PJO - Persephone!Percy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly thirteen years ago, the goddess Persephone vanished. Somewhere between winter and spring she went missing, left the Underworld to visit her mother but never made it there.
> 
> Meanwhile twelve-year-old Persephone "Percy" Jackson is in for the oddest summer of her mortal (second) life. Meeting her stepchildren in a casino frozen in time was weird. Meeting her husband again, this time because of a conspiracy of titanic proportions (get it? Not _god_ -ly, but _titan_ -ic? ...Oh, forget it), even more so. But encountering _Demeter?_ No wonder Persephone procrastinated so badly in leaving the Underworld that she slipped into a crack in the reincarnation system. 
> 
> But really. Sea-plant life is so pretty! And the underwater flowers... Ah, being in the body of Poseidon's first demigod daughter _definitely_ has its perks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's A Doozy, it's everything I have for it, and I Know... _I Know_. It needs _so much editing._ It was written almost 2 years ago, when i was experimenting with styles, and i've picked it up every few months and added to it, so the style is _all over the place_.
> 
> I'm gonna leave it here for someone to possibly enjoy in the meanwhile--I really enjoyed writing it, at least up until the end! ~~I feel like my disinterest becomes visible...~~
> 
> Edit: _omfg this is over 4k i'm so sorry_

> Nearly thirteen years ago, the goddess Persephone vanished. Somewhere between winter and spring she went missing, left the Underworld to visit her mother but never made it there.
> 
> Meanwhile twelve-year-old Persephone "Percy" Jackson is in for the oddest summer of her mortal (second) life. Meeting her stepchildren in a casino frozen in time was weird. Meeting her husband again, this time because of a conspiracy of titanic proportions (get it? Not _god_ -ly, but _titan_ -ic? ...Oh, forget it), even more so. But encountering _Demeter?_ No wonder Persephone procrastinated so badly in leaving the Underworld that she slipped into a crack in the reincarnation system.
> 
> But really. Sea-plant life is so pretty! And the underwater flowers... Ah, being in the body of Poseidon's first demigod daughter _definitely_ has its perks.

* * *

* * *

Persephone "Percy" Jackson is born on August 18, 1993 to Sally Jackson and _s **SH**_ **h** K _ **s** c **Ks** S_s **s** _K **kh**_ **s** S.

She will have hair blacker than the ocean's deepest depths. Her eyes will shine like the blue sea when she is happy, and churn green-black when angry. She will be a tall girl, far outstripping her mother, and she will punch out anyone who comments on it. She will love the beach, and be banned from pet stores across the city for freeing fish. ( _She will also have a close call with a schizophrenia diagnosis; apparently most people don't hear fish begging their princess to save them. Who knew?_ ) She'll be a dab hand at flower gardening, and fail miserably at growing vegetables in the small fire-escape garden at home. She will change schools at least once a year from age two all the way through age fourteen, and pass her algebra courses through sheer force of will. She'll break her stepfather's jaw at age eleven when she catches him leaving bruises on her mother's biceps, and she'll take up Krav Maga as a _hobby_. Percy Jackson will be a tomboy and proud. Percy Jackson will be both a momma's girl and a daddy's girl and completely unrepentant. Percy Jackson will have confidence in herself, and she will never, _ever_ be sorry for who she is.

Percy Jackson doesn't know all this yet. She's only just been born, a squishy, squalling baby. A storm breaks overhead, a Fate is unmade, and Spring Goddess Persephone has just been reborn as a mortal daughter of Poseidon.

* * *

**-... _OME IN OLYMPUS, THIS IS s_** _S_ s _ **k**_ **h** K _ **k** s **SH** s **s** S_s _ **k ... REPEAT, COME IN OLYM...-**_

 _ **...** s **SH**_ **h** K _ **s** S_s _ **kh**_ **s** S- _ **... —tides have changed—...** s **SH** s **SH**_ **h** K _ **s** S_s _ **kh**_ **s** S **...— _eware the_** s _ **SH**_ **h** _s_ K _ **'s daughter ... she is married to s** S_s _ **k** s **SH** s **SH**_ **h** K **h _s_** _S_ s _ **k**_ K _ **h**_ **s** S **—**

**_...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP..._ **

**- _TRANSMISSION LOST_ -**

* * *

Percy is two when she finally accepts her rebirth. (Later, she'll insist that two years is a mere blink to a divine being, so it really wasn't _that_ long, shut _up_ Nico.)

She has just sleep-strangled a snake. She didn't even think that was a thing, but, well. You learn something new everyday, according to mortals... which Persep— _Percy_ can now accept that she is.

It's actually kind of cool. The snake thing, that is.

Demeter would kill her if she knew Pers— _Percy_ was even _thinking_ of unladylike things.

Sally Jackson _encourages_ it. Buys her (secondhand) erector sets and toy cars and water guns, passes down the few well-worn dolls from her grandmother, and lets her play with cookie dough instead of modeling clay and then eat it. (They aren't _rich_ , okay?) It is awesome. No etiquette lessons, no uncomfortable dresses, no _restrictions_ in general (beyond ones for safety).

It helps that Percy is an easy, sensible child. No chewing on small choking hazard items, no playing with plastic bags, no pulling and ripping and tearing. She tries not to get her clothes dirty and was potty-trained quickly with minimal fuss. In public she doesn't wander off, she always takes her baths, and she is polite (as polite as a toddler gets) to everyone she meets. Sally doesn't _need_ to ride herd on her constantly. If left alone with a few toys, she can and will easily entertain herself for _hours_.

Percy Jackson is not a problem child.

Yet there is a dead snake in her nap time cot. She is at daycare and she has sleep-strangled this scaly two-headed menace and she is honestly confused as to what she should do. With the corpse, that is. She rather likes this daycare, even if is probably no longer safe if monsters are finding her.

"Percy!"

She looks up and holds her arms up for her mother. Too late to hide it, then. Sally wastes no time in snatching her up and _demanding_ the workers explain what a dead snake is doing in her daughter's cot. Percy is touched, and gives Sally a sloppy child kiss on the cheek.

She is still not used to all this concern. When she was Persephone, Demeter fluctuated between smothering her with unwanted attention and being so distant it was as if she had no mother at all. The constant, easy love of Sally is something she holds very dear to her heart (in a way far different from how she still cherishes Hades' offhand, careless affections. She knows he never truly _loved_ her, but she can't help how she feels even after all this time).

Percy is aware she is a demigod now. Mortal. It sunk in the first time she bled red instead of gold, she's over it.

(Sort of.)

Absently, between idly reminiscing about everything she remembers of her husband (including his bastard children. Has he broken the oath in her absence, she wonders?), she spares a thought to her immortal father. She strongly suspects Poseidon, if only because of her irrational love of the bath and the little seawater Sally has dipped her toes into when they visit Montauk. She hopes she's wrong and is a child of Morpheus or some other minor god, but Persephone's luck has never been the best (damn mother, interrupting her before she could finish the pomegranate) so she's honestly betting on Poseidon.

(Being a child of Hades would just suck, royally. Blessedly, Tyche doesn't hate her _that_ much. They even used to have tea parties on occasion. Tyche never liked her tea though, the tea-snob.)

Anyway. Persephone-Percy loves and appreciates Sally Jackson very much. And she would love it if she was allowed to sleep in her own bedroom again, but.

Well.

Sally says no.

(Mother knows best.)

* * *

Okay. Mother does _not_ always know best. If she did, Sally would have sent Percy to Camp Half-Blood a long time ago. Instead she keeps her daughter close by sending her to boarding school, however that works.

Percy grins and bears it. The schools are nice enough. The kids suck, the math sucks, fewer and fewer schools are willing to accept her and it sucks, but she isn't blacklisted (yet)!

Percy is in fourth grade. She does not want to talk about The Revolutionary War Cannon Incident. Yes, capital letters. It was Bad.

Now she's _sure_ Poseidon is her father. Only his kids have luck this horrible. (Also she may or may not have accidentally inhaled water in the pool, miraculously avoided choking or drowning, and came out feeling better than she went in. No biggie.)

She kind of can't wait to be grown up and allowed a weapon because these monster attacks are getting ridiculous. She totally didn't mean to blow up the bus getting rid of an _empousai_ , but it was in the way and that bitch needed to die; another casualty in the war for the greater good (a.k.a. no one insults Hades in Percy's presence. _No. One_.)

Percy is going on ten years old and she has managed to get a scholarship to some prestigious boarding school for competitive swimming. Score! She's really built like a swimmer too, tall with awkwardly large hands and feet and broad swimmer's shoulders, even as a kid. She's a little scared to contemplate her figure in ten years. But hey, she's really good at playing the piano and she _rocks_ at kickball. It's nice, being sporty and athletic. Persephone wasn't really inclined to that sort of thing, nor was she allowed to try it so it's a moot point; she used to have dainty small feet and hands, long hair, and was frowned upon for her gardening callouses and messy braid and dirt-stained skin and even her _tan_.

Man, is she glad she was reincarnated into the 21st century (give or take seven years). Hanging terrariums and fire-escape gardens and swimming pools have been keeping her sane. And her mom of course, Percy _loves_ Sally. Girl power all the way!

Percy doesn't like Smelly Gabe. There's something _off_ about him. She (discreetly, _discreetly_ ) hits him with a mild curse that will attract mosquitoes and bugs, and another to make him experience slight but noticeable discomfort around both her and her mom. She doesn't want that slob anywhere near her, she's already had to shower twice and scrub the apartment over to get out some of the stench. Percy can't wait to go off to school again, but what about her mom...?

* * *

She actually stayed in the swimming school for a whole year and a half! Balanced out by getting expelled partway through that second year, and two schools in second grade, of course. (But _more than a year!_ ) Percy goes to Yancy Academy for the second half of sixth grade, having been expelled around Christmastime because of yet _another_ monster attack.

Yancy is... strange, to say the least. Somehow Percy's papers got mixed up and the school has her registered as a boy, so she's dorming with a timid dude named Grover—he's obviously a satyr to those in the know, and hasn't even realized she's female (though to be fair, sexed scents only separate at puberty and she isn’t menstruating yet)—and just wears the boy's uniform without complaint. It's easier to move in without flashing anyone, besides. Percy favors acrobatic flips and flashy kicks she could never pull off as Persephone, but that comes with the consequence of revealing her underwear when she wears a uniform skirt. Pretending to be a boy (although it's more like just not correcting anyone) is far easier.

It's a little understandable though, especially since Mom finally let Percy get the haircut she's begged for since she was eight: an undercut with crashing waves buzzed into the sides and back of her head. She likes bangs and a little weight on her head so she keeps the top longer than the average for boys, and it flops forward just short of her eyebrows, but it's decidedly not a classically feminine haircut, or even unorthodoxically feminine. It brings out the sharpness of her cheekbones and nose, the strength of her jaw, the striking angles of her eyes and brows.

Percy _loves_ it.

The teachers at Yancy hate it too, so, bonus! The school has nice scenery, but... nothing else is really positive. The math teacher is a Fury!

...the math teacher is a _Fury_. The _math teacher_ is a _Fury_.

How did she not see this coming, Percy wonders as she sprints away from Mrs. Alecto Dodds, sparing half a thought for the fate of Mr. Dodds before Alecto nearly takes her head off with those nasty claws. She has Poseidon's kids' luck. Of _course_ Alecto is after her specifically. Why in her husband's name did she even think following it into the museum alone was a good idea?!

"What ho, Percy!" _What do you think is this, Mr. B, Latin Day? Hell Day? Pick On Percy Day?_

She catches what's thrown to her on sheer reflex, alarmed to find herself holding a sword. Who thought giving the goddess Persephone a sword was in any way a good idea? She should smack them! Oh, right, Mr. Chiron Brunner.

...

"I'm so stupid!" She waves the sword, nearly taking both Alecto's and her own head off in a single wild flail. They both dodge, Percy through more luck than skill. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!" In a frantic move born of instincts, reflex, and panic, she chucks the sword at the Fury—it spins end over end haphazardly and it's a miracle it even reaches Mrs. Dodds, let alone doesn't go flying off to the side. But smacking aside the thrown sword is enough of a distraction that Alecto doesn't notice Percy launching herself at it until she slams an outstretched leg into its neck.

She's practiced this. Take the head off, kill the one-headed monster. Burn if possible. Drown if possible. Pulverize with bare fists as needed. So Percy uses the spinning momentum and advantage of surprise to wrap her other leg around its throat, keep her body twisting with skillful application of bodyweight in relation to gravity, and wrench the head off with her thighs before Alecto can get in an up-close-and-personal scratch at her. It's child's play from there to land her hands on the floor and use the force to spring upright into a ready position. Just in case Alecto isn't really dead, sometimes that happens (the _hydra,_ man, she would've _died_ if not for that drinking fountain, Percy _loves_ drinking fountains— _why is this her life_ ).

Alecto crumbles to dust, leaving behind only her badass leather jacket. Percy crumples to the floor, her legs giving out on her at last.

She buries her face in her hands. " _Holy_ _shiiiiiiit_ ," she whisper-screams. Sally might not forgive her the profanity but she is an immortal goddess in a mortal body who just tore off a really fuckin' powerful and ancient greek monster's head with her bare legs. Clothed-but-unarmored legs. Gah, whatever. The point stands. "Holy _shit!_ " So she may be rocking back and forth a little bit, so what? She's earned five minutes of post-fight adrenaline-crash panicking. She's earned a whole lifetime of rolling around on the floor screaming like a lunatic, for this stunt.

Percy looks around. Mr. Brunner, Chiron, whatever name he's going by, is gone now. The whole place is deserted, save for Percy, a pile of dust, and the leather jacket that she suspects represents Alecto's wings to puny mortal eyes. The leather jacket is convenient though, so she doesn't force herself to look past the illusion. Sometimes the truth hurts; or, in this case, makes a girl wanna hurl.

...Wearing the spoils of your slain enemies is crass, right? Unladylike. Then again, so is taking trophies in the first place, and the whole 'spoils of war, to the victor goes the spoils' system...

Percy staggers to her feet, leather jacket slung over her shoulders. She feels sick, and nauseous, and like a badass. Acceptable trade, she didn't feel badass _nearly_ often enough. The Mist won't naturally hide the jacket, but if she prays to Hecate it might obey her at least until she gets back to the dorm. If not then too-fucking-bad, she's keeping it anyway. She probably won't be welcome back at Yancy anyway. This incident will no doubt get her expelled.

Besides, she needs to go to Camp Half-Blood. Soon. If Chiron is making a house call...

Yeah. Poseidon is definitely her dad. Dammit, her husband is her uncle twice-over now! Fucking incestuous deities.

"Percy, are you okay?"

She doesn't look at Grover, wrapping herself more tightly in the jacket. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Percy doesn’t speak again for the rest of the bus ride back to school.

* * *

It's the middle of the night and she can't sleep. Percy is still wearing the leather jacket, just over her pajamas. It's a good thing she doesn't have much hair to brush anymore because she doesn't feel up to it at all.

She wants her mom. She wants a nightgown and a teddy bear. She wants to smell like ripe grain and honeysuckle and the screams of the damned. She wants to feel pomegranate seeds bursting between her teeth and the taste of fine wine on her tongue. She wants muscles beneath her fingertips, hot breath in her ear, a single shy kiss pressed to her nose.

Grover sneaks out their door and she sits up, illuminated for an instant in the eerie fluorescent light of the hallway, all wraith and wither and waiting, before it shuts and she's left in the darkness, alone this time.

Persephone closes her eyes and breathes life into her cupped hands, instead of screaming. A flower blooms, glowing pale white in the cradle of her palms—and then it dies.

Persephone flops back down and sighs. She doesn't know where the dead flower lands and she doesn't particularly care. She just wants to, well, what she wants is not possible right now. She's not sure how or when it will be possible, but she's sure it won't be for some time yet.

Her mind won't rest, churning and chugging and crashing along in complete cacophony. She needs to calm down. Percy used to ensconce herself in her garden when she was still Persephone. What should she do now...?

...

It's child's play to sneak out of the dorm and across campus to the pool. Literally, because she has the body of a child, and for all it’s fanciness and ridiculous tuition, Yancy’s internal security sucks. Case in point, Mrs. Dodds. Exhibit B, Percy herself.

It reeks of chlorine and public showers. Percy doesn’t bother with a swimsuit or even anything other than the leather jacket trophy and her T-shirt/basketball shorts pajama combo. She steps off the ledge and into the pool as easily and simply as walking forward. She doesn’t land on the surface though. Instead, Percy sinks to the bottom of the deep end like a stone, blowing bubbles out her nose. Her short hair floats upwards, waving just out of her line of sight. Her clothes drift around her body, wet yet not.

Percy breathes.

Sounds are muted down here. The _hishh-thud-thud-thud_ of whatever machinery they have going, heating maybe or AC, isn’t audible anymore. No more rustling of the fancy-shmancy arboretum trees. Not even the loud thrum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the hallway reaches her. It’s dark here.

She breathes.

Then she strips off the jacket and does the thing to do.

“Father,” she whispers into the artificial stillness of the pool. Water feels weird over her vocal cords. She tastes chlorine... then _salt_.

The stillness isn’t quite so artificial anymore. [It feels reverent, sits like chemicals and divinity lost and fluid in her lungs.]

“A trophy for my father,” she tells the looming presence in the pool, looking at her from the corner of her eye with tongues and teeth and far too many eyes. It looks like family. “For my father.”

A bright light shines into her eyes. Percy looks up, squinting. A security guard looms over her, frowning, flashlight in hand. He makes a _get up here_ motion with the other one.

Percy obligingly kicks off the bottom. Her head breaches the surface near the poolside and she almost goes back under again at the sudden noises, before she begins to tread water. Her hair has plastered itself to her forehead and one hand is still clutching the jacket. She could backfloat, save some energy, but that seems a little flippant for someone caught out of bed at the bottom of the pool.

Then Percy sees the guard, really _sees_ him, and backfloats anyway, resting the jacket on her belly. His face is craggy and weather-worn, handsome and tan with deep laugh lines. His hair is as black and wild as her own, and she has his eyes. She can’t say anything directly, but this cheekiness ought to be enough to let Poseidon know she knows who he is.

“Child,” he says, and _oh_ , that’s the voice from her dreams, the one that promises _I’ll always protect you, precious precious child of mine_. “Curfew was three hours ago and there are no life guards. You could have drowned.”

“I wouldn’t,” she denies, smiling. “I’m always safe in the water.” Then, a little mischievously, “Daddy _promised_.”

The guard startles.

Percy tugs herself up and out of the pool, damp but not dripping wet. “Here.” She dumps the dry leather jacket over his arm. “ _You_ can have this!” She pushes hair out of her eyes and peers up at the guard. “I gotta go now. You have a good night, mister!” She runs off before he can say anything else, or catch up to her while still pretending to be human.

Well. That certainly cheered her up. She met her dad! She personally gave a battle trophy to her Dad!

She _has_ recalled correctly. Poseidon has always been the kindest of the elder gods. Not to say that he’s nice, or not-terrifying, or anything but as deep and mercurial as the sea he rules. But he could be sweet, she remembers distantly, in particular to his young nieces. He had had daughters as well, all nymphs and giantesses. He favored none of those.

Percy is... the first mortal daughter of Poseidon. Oh dear. That can go two ways: she might be doted on and prized, or she might be outcast and debased.

He came to visit in person, she reasons, so he likes her. He swore to protect her, even. Poseidon will take care of her, and if the day came when he won’t... Persephone is a goddess in her own right. She has her ways of escaping gods.

...you didn’t _actually_ think Hades could capture her if she didn’t want to be caught, right?

...right.

The clopping of hooves catches her ear, both cloven and equine. She isn’t back at her dorm room yet, in a hallway not far away. Percy turns to leave. Not her business what people got up to at night—

“Percy hasn’t said _anything_ , Chiron,” Grover hisses, and wow would you look at that suddenly Percy is right there listening. “He always says goodnight, always, and, and he jokes, and says _something_ sarcastic—but he just went to bed! Hasn’t spoken since the museum! Normally he would have at _least_ asked about the replacement teacher!”

“Now, now, Grover,” Chiron tries to placate.

“There is such a thing as _trauma_ , Chiron! Selective muteness is part and parcel with it! He just _killed_ something! Percy is my friend, I don’t want him to, to be _traumatized_! I don’t want him to be traumatized and _not get help_!”

Percy is going to have to do something really _really_ nice for Grover, it dawns upon her. _So_ nice. The _nicest_. Maybe she’ll sneak into the kitchens and bake him cookies. Friends do that, right? Maybe she can beat someone up for him. She would beat up _all_ the people for Grover.

It’s... kind of sad that the twice-her-physical-age satyr who thinks she’s a boy is her best friend out of both lives.

(She didn’t get out much. Shut _up_ Nico.)

But it seems like if Chiron keeps talking she’ll bust in there and deck him, so she moves on. No counseling for demigods? She literally can’t even think about it without feeling flowers decay around her ears. No counseling! _No counseling!_

...Percy is going to go to sleep, and in the morning file for a class transfer from anatomy to psychology. If there are no demigod counselors then dammit she’s going to become one. She _will_ last that long.

No counseling! Ridiculous! Ridiculous! _This will not stand!_

* * *

Grover side-eyes her the next morning while they wait for their homeroom teacher. “You’re awfully chipper today,” he observes. “Something happen?”

“I’m changing tracks,” she admits, leg bouncing so fast it practically blurs. “From the physical sciences to the mental sciences. Had a mental breakthrough last night, decided to be a therapist. Ha! _Mental_.” No longer will she train to be a doctor! Percy is going to be a therapist for demigods if it _kills her_. It actually might too, good thing she has a sturdy resolve! “I am _good_.”

“Well,” Grover says supportively, and maybe a little plaintively in the direction of the ceiling, “I’m glad you’ve found your calling.”

The algebra teacher comes in to begin homeroom, and Grover shoots Percy another worried look, but she is silent.

* * *

“Why am _I_ on probation?” she demands of the vice principal. “Of all people? I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“You were already on thin ice, Mr. Jackson,” the vice principal tells her firmly. “This incident with Ms. Bobofit, at a public museum no less, is very disappointing. Your tone is not doing you any favors, young man.”

“Sir,” Percy grits out. “With all due respect. Nancy Bobofit spent the day pickpocketing people. Then she fell into the fountain after bullying my roommate at lunchtime. I wasn’t anywhere _near_ her.” The fountain water was quite eager to help, no proximity to her necessary. “I really don’t understand why _I’m_ the one being punished.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Some ideas I had for this:

  * Persephone insisting on being part of Hades' next affair and turning it into a threesome
  * Persephone taking Nico and Bianca with her when she finds them in the Lotus Eaters' Den (and yanking the story way too damn AU for my original intentions)
  * Persephone being unable to enter the Underworld in the summer for the quest (also way too damn AU)
  * Persephone angsting over her husband also being her uncle (again)




End file.
